To Follow Your Footprints
by SomewhereBeyondReality
Summary: "Because she knows where she's going and where she came from..." Lucy reflects on her three siblings journeys and how they have changed through Narnia. Drabble about siblinglove with combined book and movie verse.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**This is just a story that's been drifting around in my head (and laptop) for a while now: I love the sibling relationship between the four Pevensies, so it's based around that and pretty much just filling some how's and why's of their experiences switching between worlds (which I always figured must have been tricky at times). I know a hundred people have done it before but this is my interpretation. **

**Lucy's POV, set some time before the Last Battle; so looking back on their lives – hope you enjoy (This chapter's just a prologue btw). **

**X-X**

**Chapter 1:**

Lucy observes more than anyone realises.

It is easy at first glance to disregard this. Easy to assume that because of Lucy's energy, her child-like love of life, her never-pausing-always-laughing enthusiasm – that she misses things.

That she is so busy_ being_ she never does any _seeing_.

That incidentally – is completely wrong.

Her brothers and sister know the truth of course. They know of her thoughtful, introspective nature, her deep connection with the spiritual – and that Lucy actually see's far more than most can comprehend.

What they don't know is that she also sees them.

Being the youngest child does have _some _advantages; one of them being the chance to observe all the others on their own journeys.

Often unnoticed, unseen, unacknowledged in the rush of the world – but nevertheless she is _there _to watch and remember.

**X-X**


	2. Chapter 2: Edmund

**First up...Edmund! (Working in age order seemed to be logical) and I also thought he certainly had the most scope as a very complex and realistic character. So go, read, enjoy.**

**X-X**

**Chapter 2:**

Lucy remembers Edmund.

He was her chief playmate in early years as the two were so often lumped together as the 'younger' set.

She remembers that – back then – one would never call him a _bad _person. (Let alone cruel, vengeful and all those other labels attached). He was not the black sheep of the family, the changeling child, he was simply _Edmund._

Mischievous perhaps and possessing a rebellious spirit that could be wearing at times. Occasionally prone to sulkiness and long simmering resentment but – bad?

Never.

From those times she remembers that he _cared: _that it washe who would come to seek her out when nobody else noticed her drooping spirits, he was always quickest in her defence and he would stand by her against all odds.

Lucy can wholeheartedly blame any change that occurred within him on outsides forces, assure everyone that the world had taken her loving brother and sought to twist and torment him into an unrecognisable figure.

When he left she'd never been to boarding school before and certainly not to the one Peter and Edmund attended. (With an all-boys law she couldn't help but think turning up could cause a _little _disturbance). The closest she got to it were the numerous letters' Peter wrote; which always seemed to give a lot of cheery account but little detail.

Later when she herself packed her bags and followed Susan through towering gates, she would be able to understand the conformity those places imposed: Difference – any difference – was not a gift but a flaw and crucial to cut out at once.

At the time though she did not – could not – know this.

For that first term all Lucy knew was that she was losing her brother. The brother that had waved goodbye on the train – face alight with mingled fear and affection – had been slipping away. So quickly vanishing beneath the too-large blazer that proudly bore the school's seal.

The seal stamped indelibly through his soul – as a slave is chained to his master.

She knew that first holiday back that Edmund – _this_ Edmund – was hardened.

It had taken a lot to wangle the truth out of the reluctant Peter. To _finally _persuade him to explain this transformation. He'd been unyielding, difficult and almost as stubborn as Ed himself but Peter – no matter how determined he was to protect his little sisters innocence – had always had a weak spot for Lucy's pout.

He'd told her, as gently as possible – that sometimes boys _could _be cruel, not everyone was as kind to others as she was to them and that Edmund had experienced the worst kind of treatment.

Because her brother with his fierce independence, private nature and serious, bookish-tendencies was ideal prey in a place like that. Coupled with a small, skinny appearance it had been mere weeks before he was discovered and hunted upon.

"_Ed being Ed of course."_ Peter had said. "_Would never think of retreat – he rose to the bait every time."_

Lucy thinks that's something both brothers have in common.

"_Sometimes I wonder if he spent more time in the nurse's office than he did in the classes." _

Her heart had burned within her at those words; emotion never felt before shooting through every bone in her body. Her blood boiled, pulse racing and she struggled to control her trembling hands. Heat rushed to her face as she brought white-knuckled fists to her sides.

How _dare_ they?

How dare those nameless, faceless _beasts _torment _her _sibling this way?

In that moment, girl or not, Lucy was determined to march down to that – that – _prison _– and show every single one of those imbeciles what she thought of them! Edmund was part of herfamily!

More than that he was her _brother. _

No one – no one – Lucy Pevensie loved was treated like that! If she could just...

Peter managed to convince her out of that particular plan; however when she'd turned her blazing eyes on him and demanded why _he _hadn't looked after Edmund even her oldest sibling looked a little scared.

It wasn't that he hadn't tried of course; but the school was large, he was eons apart from Edmund and not just in form classes. Even when Peter had at last realised what was happening and leapt into a protective stance – frequently rounding boys off with ease – it hadn't helped much. Edmund somehow wasn't _gratefu_l to his infinitely more revered brother for the favour.

These were his battles and he could fight them alone.

"_Damn him and his blockhead pride."_

Lucy has to agree with that statement. Foolish, brave – Edmund.

Still, at least at home he would return to his old self to some extent; he was still their brother, still managed to remain one of them, still seemed to be part of the _family. _

Lucy has a feeling it was mostly thanks to Mr Pevensie. Their revered and much adored head and heart of the family had always had a way with Ed – a natural touch since he was a baby. Father and youngest son shared a special connection; one that the other three – despite their own close and personal relationships with Dad – did not touch. They instinctively _knew _that Edmund needed this parent most of all: he depended on Dad's love, sheltered in it, was supported by it, leant on it, _clung_ to it with every fibre of his being as rock amongst the relentless storm of his life.

To his father Edmund would open up his guarded shames and seek comfort; and it was his father who began to talk of perhaps (just perhaps) trying a different school. His father who assured him (unlike other grown up's claims), that it wasn't _him _that was the problem. He wasn't to blame for the other boys actions – their taunts held no truth.

And through his father and his words of wisdom and strength Edmund had remained a member of the family.

In that first holiday (and all those later) after a rough start, led by Dad the glowering gaze softened and his laugh rang out devoid of the bitter edge.

He would agree to play with her once more, roll his eyes in amusement instead of irritation at Susan's mothering and respect rather than mock Peter. His protective skin would start to shed loose and the old Edmund could be seen shining through.

It wasn't perfect, wasn't fair, wasn't _just, _but at least at home he could belong.

X-X

But then, Lucy remembers: War began.

War doesn't just affect the soldiers fighting; Lucy knows this all too well. War is a pebble dropped into a smooth pond; ripples spreading out to the farthest corners.

Within weeks their world was transformed and Dad was gone, travelling far away to the midst of battle and guns and death.

And almost as quickly Edmund was gone too:

Lost and confused at the absence of the one person he thought he could trust the most, the betrayal of his comforter, guardian and mentor – all the bitterness and pain came flooding through to explode in a tidal wave of boundless fury and resentment.

He hated Peter more than ever: for trying to take the place of his father. He hated him for not filling the gaping hole in Edmund's heart and yet at the same time for _trying_ to do so.

He hated him for being so strong and perfect and leaving no room for an _im_perfect brother. He hated him for attempting to conquer Edmund's own inner battles and (on failing to do this) – condemning their existence in the first place.

He hated the fact that now Peter was the solver there was no place for him but to _be _the problem _to_ be solved.

He hated the war for taking dad away but he also hated _himself _for sending him away. Hewondered if his father actually_ preferred_ war over dealing with his difficult son; making him responsible for his Dad's absence.

He hated that it _had_ to be his fault.

He hated his own worthlessness and – he hated himself.

So he lashed out. At school the disintegration had grown even worse. From her eldest brother (again) Lucy garnered that Edmund was no longer just a victim anymore; slowly but surely he was switching camps, drifting to the other side and joining those who'd tyrannized him.

Her Ed was becoming one of _them, _and once he'd made that sacrifice of himself, given into that pressure Lucy knew a line was crossed.

Amongst the family his misery had been clear too: Bullying Lucy – modelling those starters of all of the trouble. Scorning Susan – treating her the way others treated him. Pushing away his mother – becoming as lonely as his own tormentors. And of course; his never ending tirade against Peter.

Edmund had fallen into the catalyst of his own hate, unable to escape from the recurring circle, silently calling out for the love he felt he could never have and so gave up hoping for.

Lucy doesn't like to remember those days before they were evicted to the Professor's home. It isn't an Edmund_ anyone_ likes to remember. A merciless, spiteful Edmund who was an enemy of everyone – including himself.

Was it any wonder that he'd been tempted by the White Witch?

Her brother so easily passes off his experiences of her as being lured in by 'sweeties', letting others imply that Turkish Delight was the bitter fruit that caused him to betray his family and seek the darker paths – but Lucy knows better.

Lucy knows that her brother is not that weak or shallow: that the Witch – far more powerful than any bullies – had seen straight through his cracked facade to the longing lurking below the surface. _She _(even now no one utters her name) had exposed his weakness with unmerciful accuracy; tempting him with a chance to prove himself, to become worthy, to be _someone. _

Even now Lucy can't find it in her heart to blame Ed for succumbing to that. Besides, he blames himself enough.

But then (and a smile dawns on Lucy's face as she remembers now). Then Aslan came: the great and golden lion, the angel of redemption and her brother's saviour.

A mentor even greater than the man Edmund had lost.

A father who _wouldn'_t leave him, who_ couldn't_ let him down and promised always be there for his son; until the stars themselves rained down from the heavens.

Lucy loves their Dad – irrevocably and unconditionally – but she knows even the bond he'd had with Edmund, couldn't compare to the immeasurable love of Aslan.

Aslan had found her brother and at last her brother had found his way home.

The change had been so fast, so clear, so utterly _complete _that even Lucy with her boundless faith in the King of all Kings had found her breath taken away.

She'd seen from the moment Ed stumbled down from that talk with Aslan that the old mask was being erased.

Lucy still has hazy memories as he stood facing the three of them: a slight tremble of his lips and bowed head betraying shame.

However that was all so inconsequential when he looked up and she had witnessed the beginnings of _peace_ blazing in his dark orbs. Peace; Lucy had realised, that would work its way through his entire soul; breaking the chains that had bound him for so long.

That peace had come to full flame when he had awoken on the battle field, the tears of his siblings raining fast and hard on his pale brow.

As the drops of the cordial flowed their way through his blood and the three of them had wrapped him in an unbreakable hold Lucy had watched the last traces of guilt wash away.

Light was allowed to burst through the shadows, letting his heart burn with all the hope and power it possessed.

The peace was no longer overshadowed by any _other _emotion and could truly be witnessed in full glory.

That image had imprinted itself irrevocably in her soul and now when she thinks of their early days in Narnia thatis what Lucy remembers: a crystal clear recall of her brother's rebirth.

She remembers that the old Edmund was back and would never be driven away again.

It was because of his own redemption that he was able to rule as a Just King over others. His gift of life and forgiveness (far more valuable than any sword, horn or dagger) made him value Narnia in infinite, tiny ways and the blessings Aslan left, gave him a sense of responsibility and wisdom far beyond his years; empowering to lead where it was so easy to fall.

And when the Golden Age ended and they were exiled to the land that had once been home, Ed still supported the three of them.

Throughout the long, turbulent year in England Edmund had sustained the strength for his siblings.

While Peter's control slipped from his writhing grip and Susan desperately tried to find her place in a puzzle that didn't hold together anymore it was Edmund who quietly continued to act as the King no one was aware of.

Lucy knew friends, family and teachers alike were united in shock at the change in the youngest Pevensie son.

Boys who once encircled him with taunts were sent off in bewilderment; powerless against his level retorts and calm defences.

Cynical masters whose common command had once been: "Come up here Pevensie and I'll give you six" were amazed at the quiet dignity in his respectful answers.

Of course the only fights he got into _then _were those in protection of Peter. In those days it was the older brother who wounded the younger but despite the harsh temper and bull-headed pride it was to Peter Edmund continued to give his unyielding loyalty.

He was hurt of course, Lucy could tell that much. In Narnia her brother's had been inseparable. Enemies and subjects knew that harming either King in the presence of their counterpart was a sure way to meet death two had ruled as one. They'd come so close to losing each other time and time again; but with each near miss their bond strengthened through the blood and tears spilled for their land. The rejection of such a bond – _Peter's_ rejection – had bruised Ed to the core yet he hadn't wavered for a second. Any resentment of his older brother had been washed away by the tranquil steadfastness embedded in his heart.

Even when they returned to Narnia the second time the pattern continued.

Once again his own experiences of change aided Edmund. His own transformation helped him survive the same change in his beloved land; he knew better than anyone that rebirth _was _possible and you _could _rebuild things broken. And Lucy's sure that's what gave him the unwavering courage exhibited on that journey that was more turbulent than soothing.

After Peter's surrender to Caspian Lucy could remember the silent forgiveness that passed between the two kings and brothers.

The bond had not been broken, simply numbed for a while – and as Narnia struggled to its feet and walked proud once more, so did her brother's love for one another.

Of course Lucy knows that Edmund still faced his own challenges: old demons cropping up to face in battle once more.

She can't _not _remember the yells echoing over the Dawn Treader and the pure and utter _terror _as he gazed at a Jadis no one else could protect him from, skin paling instantly and hands clammy with despair.

But he fought and he won and when they returned for the final time despite the pain of loss he didn't give in.

Lucy remembers that first evening back in Cambridge when he crept into her room late at night to talk. It was the time of utter stillness and the only hour to speak privately. (Eustace – no matter how reformed – could not understand the mingled joy and grief consuming them at that time. One day, when he too suffered this one way ticket he could join them but that night they mourned alone).

Drowning in the bitter sweetness they'd come to associate with the land whose very air tasted of magic, and curled up on the bed aching to their very bones in the downpour of memories – Edmund had wrapped his arms around her.

His strong grip had been the only thing preventing Lucy from ripping apart in an explosion of uncontrollable emotion.

"_We may not be __**there **__anymore." _Edmund said when more than one tear threatened to fall.

"_But Aslan hasn't left us. And we haven't left each other. We four are still a __**family **__Lu and we can hold onto that. We're never alone, not really. Not while we have each other." _

And then despite the salty streams that _did _escape Lucy had smiled as she smiles now.

Because she _doesn't_ know what was going to happen in the years to come or when she will see her lost land again or how she will survive in this restricting, confusing world. But she _does_ know that through it all her brother is always _Edmund._

**X-X**

**Reasons for Edmund's rather horrible character in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe vary – in the book Lewis states he changed when he started attending boarding school (but never went into more detail) however in the movie its implied he was missing his Dad – I figured it could be both. All reviews appreciated, next in line...Susan... **


	3. Chapter 3: Susan

**Moving onto Susan: apologies for the long wait, life's getting very busy at the moment and there are about five other stories I have on the go right now but anyway: **

**Obviously this will be a little more bitter sweet than Edmund's considering Lewis's ending but I tried to give it a reasonably happy note. **

**X-X **

**Chapter 3:**

Lucy remembers Susan.

Not Susan as she is now – a social butterfly of sophistication with as much brains as wingspan – but _Queen _Susan – The Gentle Ruler. Monarch of Narnia and all Talking Beasts. Susan of the Horn. Leader of the Golden Age. A legend and symbol of grace throughout the ages.

And sometimes simply just Su.

That's enough for Lucy and it's_ always_ been enough: When the titles have been stripped away and palaces ruined, Susan Pevensie will stand above all else because...

_Because you're my sister. _

Aslan gives and Aslan takes away but he gave Lucy an irreplaceable older sister and Lucy can never forget that.

For Susan though that_ isn't_ enough anymore: In this present day her siblings are inadequate, mere memories of Narnia cannot sustain her and even Aslan himself has lost consequence.

Thinking about this; it occurs to Lucy how interconnected identity itself is:

Because in simply forgetting '_those childish games'_ Susan has lost so much more:

A lifetime of memories. A deep connection with them – her own brothers and sister. An enchanted land that is still _hers _even if she does not believe it. An everlasting faith in the great lion. And – most of all; she's lost _herself. _

Because when she cast away the magic of childhood belief Susan also threw away a portion of her soul. A part of who she really is has fallen into blackness and been washed into the shadows forever.

_Maybe I should have been more alert_. Lucy reflects soberly_. More watchful_.

Maybe there was some way she could have_ prevented_ this loss, some action she could have taken, some words said to have stopped...

_Perhaps I should have realised the danger_. 

After they'd returned from Narnia the second time it was _Peter _she and Ed had watched most closely: guarded him from the pits of despair that had broken their brother before.

Susan, as calm and collected as ever, had seemed far more accepting of her fate. Lucy had truly admired her sister then: for her tranquillity and obedience in what Lucy considered to be the greatest trial any person could suffer.

She only hoped that when her turn came (for come it would Lucy knew with ever-dreading fear) she could endure the permanent exile with as much dignity as her older sister.

Susan had always been quickest to focus on reality: she had understood the importance of practical details and wasted little time dreaming of present or future, and perhaps that was a gift in those circumstances:

She best out of all of them could embrace the new life _here _and _now _rather than remembering a different land of dancing trees and singing beasts.

The former Gentle Queen could treat the situation with the logic required. 

Lucy remembered that following the first journey to Narnia and the return from the Professors home both she and Susan found themselves alienated from their peers. Experienced a sudden loneliness than came with having lived out a whole other lifetime unbeknownst to the world.

They did not drift away from all other company on _purpose, _the invisible barriers between them and their former friends was not a conscious decision but both Lucy and Susan had come back from Narnia to find that things had...changed. _They _had changed. They just didn't _fit_ anymore.

It wasn't surprising after all (in fact Lucy would be disappointed if they _hadn't _been affected) but that didn't make it _easy. _

The true comprehension of how this change had affected Susan only fully dawned on Lucy after they left Narnia the second time.

She'd been surprised enough as it was that her older sister had entered the bloodthirsty battle field in their war against the Telmarines. Throughout the Golden Age Susan had rarely (if ever) ridden out to fight, that had been Lucy's forte and it was Susan who had remained behind the watch over their land. Not for nothing was she called 'Gentle'. Back in Narnia though, she had amazed all three of them with her determination to take her place among the ranks and to Lucy's astonishment it was she who was left behind. No matter how much her sister hid it; Susan's longing and possessiveness of Narnia was powerful enough to overrule even her hatred of bloodshed and violence.

It was when Susan introduced her (finally) to the reality of boarding school that Lucy realised the other sacrifice her older sister had made for their land. Only where no one could notice.

She'd seen her sister sitting alone far too often and walking the crowded corridors with no companion. It hurt to see Susan – the sun and centre of all balls in Narnia – isolated and alone. Lucy immediately realised her _longing _to be allowed back in, to be accepted again, to have _friends._

Because no matter how much she missed and ached for her lost land; Lucy knew her lot was immeasurably easier. Not only did she have the hope of returning to Narnia but she was more settled in her own company (after all there were no dancing fauns or dryads on offer) than Susan anyway. And of course she actually _enjoyed _some ofthe lessons at school.

Oh; Susan was intelligent there was no denying that; but her place was not in lessons, immersed among books. She depended on the company of others, sociability was part of her very nature and the deprivation of this had left her adrift and loose.

So Lucy clung tight to her sister, fiercely wrapping her soul around Susan's – entwined as always – to remind her that although others may have walked away in confusion, _she _was still there no matter what.

After all they didn't really need anyone else, not when they had each other. They'd ruled as Queens and sisters side by side sharing a bond deeper than any their contemporises could comprehend. Forged by forgotten years of joy and strengthened by the fire of shared grief.

So despite Susan's cautious reengagement with her old life at school very little changed; she still chose _Lucy's _company over any other being in the world after all. 

Because of this Lucy tried to be happy when in the years later Susan was the one who got chosen to go to America (after all she told herself – Susan _needed _the trip more than she did, perhaps this was the chance of happiness she'd been waiting for).

It didn't cross the youngest Queen's mind for a second that in finding this way forward her sister would forget to look back.

And it wasn't until the two younger siblings had returned from their journey with Eustace that Lucy began to see a _genuine_ change in Susan.

Of course it was hard to tell over a thousand miles of ocean and letters were infrequent and patchy at best but – gradually mentions of Narnia seemed to drop away in her writing.

Almost unnoticeably Su's pen mused less with thoughts full of intelligence and sensitivity but instead chattered more about parties and men and evening dresses, (no longer referred to as ball gowns).

Oh, of course she responded with the correct enthusiasm to Lucy and Edmund's ink-splattered post cards bearing the joyful herald: _We went back. _However compared to Peter's frantic ten-page questionnaire, demanding details of everything and everyone (and that was in the middle of studying) her polite interest seemed..._aloof? _

Even the joyful reunion when (at _last_) the four were together again was tarnished by her slight withdrawal, an invisible curtain between their once easy relationships. She'd still remember and join in the reminiscing but it seemed in those days that _America _was almost as exciting as _Narnia _and these new dances outranked any royal ball.

Fuelled by her experiences in New England Susan had absorbed herself in the whirl of the social circle like never before, mingling with new, giggling friends and (to Ed and Peter's chagrin) new beau's.

When questioned about this change she did not defend her decisions but passed any comments off with a delicate shrug.

Lucy could not help but pick up Susan's unvoiced thought that now they were_ all_ staying in England for good they should follow her lead and make the most of life _now. _

However in the rare moments her older sister stopped for a quiet moment Lucy had _seen _the longing in her eyes and knew this was her own way of dealing with the recurring pain her and Ed's trip had brought back.

That attraction to the shallow peacocks of the world was not because Susan truly_ preferred _their company over her families but because – at that time, amidst a sea of wistful memories – she needed something to fasten onto. A connection to something in _this _world, a focus beyond her siblings who reminded her of a life lost.

After all Susan played the part of host or guest with gracious ease. She _had _always adored the thrill of gatherings and the excitement of donning in glamorous attire. None of that had changed between worlds, only the _styles _themselves had after all.

So if this sudden...separation...was Susan's coping mechanism; Lucy had decided (with a repressed pang) she would not try and stop her.

Susan would never truly forget them, forget _Him. _She was just trying to find her place again – they all were. She had faith her sister would find her true path.

But as the months had worn on no change had occurred in the elegant stranger than became her sister.

From merely ignoring any references of Narnia Susan began to_ criticize_ their frequent reminiscing; politely suggesting that perhaps the three of them should focus a little more on 'the real world' and less on the fairy tales of children.

She never spoke the words outright – the social restrictions had taken their toll – but it was clear from the worry projected in Peter's tense body and the fury burning in Edmund gaze that they understood all too well what she was suggesting.

Still Lucy had continued to defend her against the shock and disbelief of the two brothers: Susan may be drifting behind the increasing layers but she was still _there. _Lost and confused but very much herself. She just needed _guidance._

Lucy realised now that it wasn't so much Ed and Peter she wanted to convince but herself: she could not come to accept what was really happening.

She could not face the loss of her sister – her best friend – her other half. 

It wasn't until over a year after Eustace appeared with Jill both full of tales of silver chairs, green enchanters and a Marshwiggle called Puddleglum as queer as his name that Lucy accepted the truth.

She's been trying to persuade her sister to come to dinner with the seven of them; it was the holidays – Peter was back from university, she and Ed were free from their schools, Eustace and Jill from theirs and even Aunt Polly and the Professor had come down to town for a short while.

Lucy hadn't admitted completely that they were meeting to talk about Narnia of course but Susan had been to several of these 'gatherings' before and she was aware of what the conversation would be about.

Cool refusal quickly transformed to icy rejection until at last – driven to her limits with Lucy's dogged determination – Susan the Gentle had turned on her younger sister with blazing eyes and a lashing tongue. 

"_Just go away Lu, I __**know **__what you're trying to get at and I __**know **__what you're trying to do. But it's not going to work, not with me, not anymore. _

_It's not real Lucy: Narnia and Kings and Queens or even this ridiculous Aslan you keep twittering on about! I've tried, god knows I've tried to make you see sense, let you down gently but I'm tired of pretending anymore – I'm tired of __**you **__pretending. It was all a game, a make believe story from when we were children." _

And then she'd uttered the words that would haunt Lucy for years to come.

"_And it's high time you all forgot such nonsense too. It's time you grew __**up**__."_

And with that declaration Lucy had gazed, panic-stricken and paralysed deep into her older sister's eyes; searching desperately for the trace of Su behind the mask, the truth behind bars. She'd searched and searched and...

_There'd been nothing there._

Susan was not behind the mask.

She _was _the mask.

She'd acted and posed for so long that she had truly become the projected image. True and false identity had merged until the original soul was lost amongst the smoke screens and mirrors.

As she'd said herself; she wasn't just pretending that Narnia didn't exist anymore; to her _– it __**was**__ gone. _The calm precision of her clipped syllables only proved it, no screaming of a woman in denial: In Susan's eyes she was the bearer or truth. 

So with incoherent prayers to the King of Kings echoing in her mind Lucy had fled to the solace of the others. Finally admitting that her sister – in the truest sense of the word – was dead.

Now she understood Ed's pain when Peter had pulled away from him all those years before. Now she understood the terrible wound left as the other part of you ripped away. But at least with Edmund, Peter had come back quickly – Lucy could feel deep within her it would not be so simple with Su.

Thank Aslan for the other friends of Narnia because without them Lucy wasn't sure she could have borne the loss.

At first in the face of their younger sister's pain Peter and Ed had reacted with raging protectiveness that would have been funny in other circumstances. They'd paced up and down the small study the seven of them were cloistered in; ranting furiously about the various executions they could subject Susan too. (Most of them stolen from Calormen).

"_Boil her in oil."_

"_Lacking creativity much Pete? At least start by hanging her from her ankles for a couple of days."_

"_Good point, though jolly mild – why not burn off her hair and gradually progress? She certainly values it more than her head."_

"_I'll say; have you seen what she's like now? The things she says! If I could just..."_

In truth though; the two of them were could no sooner kill Susan as each other. They were just as shaken at this ultimate betrayal but it hadn't been until the tears began to stream silently down Lucy's cheeks they softened.

Peter had pulled her onto his lap cradling her as if she was a baby again and Ed huddled next to them; slinging a warm arm around her shoulders – hurt replacing anger.

Eustace meanwhile offered various scientific proofs he'd read that many young females went through his period in life, temporarily losing their minds due to rare chemical toxins in the air – suggesting that perhaps there was an issue with the house drainage. He was only cut off by Jill's not-so-subtle jab in the ribs. (She'd made a more sensitive offer of a cup of tea).

The Professor had been quiet, besides snide mutters of what ideas schools taught these days but he'd gazed at Lucy with a look of such understanding and deep wisdom that that in itself comforted her.

It was Aunt Polly though that cinched it. Crouching down (despite stiffened joints) she looked straight into Lucy's eyes...and reminded her of Aslan.

"_Just remember Him Lucy." _She'd said. "_Your sister's lost yes, and maybe there's no way __**we **__can bring her back but have faith. For Him, nothing is impossible."_

And so they'd all prayed: prayed to Aslan, prayed to his English counter-part, prayed to the Emperor-Over-The-Sea's and Lucy _hoped._

Hoped that this was not really the end for Susan. Hoped that Aslan would bring her home again one day.

And she could give thanks. Thanks that although she'd lost her sister; she still had her brothers, her friends and they _all _had faith_._

They after all had not forgotten and neither had she. And now, after seeing Susan – and what had become of her – Lucy knew none of them would abandon Narnia.

S_he _would not let them let abandon Narnia.

Because Lucy realises now that's what it was all about. 

The acceptance, the practicality, the parties – were not signs of _strength _in Susan's life here but of surrender. They were stepping stones on the path to weakness: Giving in to the thorns of the world and leaving Narnia behind. Just as she'd set aside her peaceful nature to fight and appease her conscience so long ago now she set aside her memories to find contentment in this world.

Because no matter what Eustace and Jill say and Edmund and Peter secretly wonder Lucy knows the real reason for Susan's change.

Her motive was not as shallow as any of them assume; the appeal was not truly the dinners and gowns but by the lack of _feeling _beneath them. Her sister felt that the pain of_ losing_ Narnia was not worth the joy of _remembering _it at all. 

"_It is better to have loved and lost than never loved at all"._

The Professor mentioned the quote once with a far away glint in his eyes and Lucy agrees completely. _That _is what Susan has forgotten.

She decided it was easier to let go of the magic than live and ache and suffer with it.

Lucy can't force Susan to remember now.

She can't force her to become the Su of old.

But she _can_ still be there for her wandering sibling: Lucy can stand by her side through the pain and the hurt and the differences and she can act as Queen and Sister for both of them.

Most of all though she can remember _for _her.

Lucy knows that as long as she holds the memory of the Gentle Monarch in her mind – then somewhere and somehow Queen Susan is still living. Through the images and fragments of Lucy's mind her real sister with her life and belief remains.

And with Aslan's will – _that_ Susan will return one day. 

**X-X **

**Comments? Criticism? Anything welcome. I'm not as happy with this one as I was with Edmund but I was taking so much time to post and I couldn't face looking over and trying to edit again that I figured I'd just publish anyway. In this story I tried to bring together several contradicting aspects of Susan's personality: mainly that she is often described as just the 'pretty one' and 'not much good at school work' but frequently proves herself to be intelligent and thoughtful. **

**I also briefly brought together her 'Gentle' nature and apparent warrior side seen in Prince Caspian (though that is Movie-verse I admit), it seems like a sensible connection that she was so overcome with emotion at the hurt and oppression Narnia had suffered she's find that enough of a cause to actually fight. **

**Finally (before I go on and on) it seemed obvious that Susan wouldn't just 'forget' Narnia for the sake of it and the logical answer was that she **_**did **_**care about Narnia as much as the other three did but dealt with it differently which eventually resulted in complete rejection simply because it **_**hurt. **_**This also fits in with her characterization in both the books and movie that she was always the quickest to go for the 'sensible' choice and focus on what was 'real'.**


	4. Chapter 4: Peter

**Sorry about the long gap in updates but Peter has finally arrived! I'll just let you guys reads and then bore you with long author notes...**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Narnia I would have uprooted and gone to live there already and seeing as they don't have internet...**

**X-X**

**Chapter Four: **

Lucy remembers Peter.

It was strange that – at least before they went to Narnia – she'd counted him as her favourite sibling.

Some people found it odd; that youngest sister barely more than the smallest of children so closely entwined with an older brother hovering on the threshold of adolescence. But it was true anyway.

Truthfully Lucy didn't know how she _couldn't _have loved him as much as she did. He'd always been the epitome of goodness; perfect it in every area of his life: a hard working pupil, helpful citizen (yes even at 13), devoted son and loving brother. That was one of the reasons Ed had always found it so hard – living in such a vast shadow wasn't fun.

For Lucy though she couldn't have been luckier; no matter how busy her parents seemed, how bossy Susan was or how many brooding fits overcame Edmund – there was always Peter.

Peter to play with, badger, run to for comfort. He was her protector, her sun, her rock, and her one-man army of defence against any bullies that dared to threaten 'a Pevensie girl'. She depended on him more than life itself but _he_ also depended on her.

It was so part of his instinct to care for others that having her _to _protect fulfilled his purpose.

She helped define who Peter was and it strengthened him to know Lucy would always be there to depend on his support and in turn support him.

Lucy knew that around her he was able to drop down his guard: he didn't have to _work _to serve her as he did with others. For Lucy simply who he was – was enough.

When war came this position in her life (well, all of their lives except Edmund's) only grew: No matter how much Dad leaving hurt him, Peter didn't show it – storing it all behind his practiced stoic mask and filling the shoes left behind with as much grace as his age allowed.

He couldn't be Dad of course, no matter how hard he tried but that was the point – he _tried. _His sense of duty propelled him forward to patch the gaps the war had punctured in their lives.

Lucy doesn't remember him complaining about what the war had meant for him: She had certainly cried over the lack of dolls in the toy shops, Edmund never stopped griping about the rationing restrictions and Susan had moaned at the clothing choices but Peter who had lost more than any of them didn't utter a word.

He was forced to abandon his childhood and take on responsibility far beyond his thirteen years but somehow still managed to rise above their petty niggling.

Not that he'd been perfect of course – Lucy's reverence for her eldest brother doesn't have as much of a rosy glow as all _that _– he'd been grumpy and short tempered and certainly nagged Ed a lot but all things considering he'd held up better than the rest of them (bearing a far heavier burden).

Now looking back she realised this was all part of Aslan's design: his guidance of_ them_ was preparation for the greater family he would one day lead.

As Peter guided the three of them through the Blitz, evacuations, imposing housekeepers, improbable (impossible) portals to other worlds, kidnapped fauns, talking beavers, icy rivers and vicious wolves Lucy had visibly seen the growth in her brother.

The events of both worlds transformed him into a man fit to be the greatest King Narnia had ever seen.

Peter may have been an awe-inspiring ruler of more creatures than he could recall, the victor of more battles than any history class could memorise and the strongest man anyone (centaurs included) could hope to meet – but he would never have been _any _of it without having started to guide them – guide _her _– first.

Unfortunately though when they returned to England he seemed to forget this: forget that he was brother first and King second. He forgot that his roots belonged to _them. _

To be fair the first six months (was it really so long a time? It felt like nothing) at the Professors home he dealt with exile as well as his younger siblings.

Of course there had been nights when Lucy heard him calling out in his sleep plagued by nightmares of home and long, dreary days when he vanished to brood alone in the sprawling grounds – but all in all he coped well.

Lucy knew they had Professor Kirke to thank for that: without him she didn't think any of them could have survived the first six months. Both he and Aunt Polly (who rushed down the day after he sent news of their discovery) _knew _how it felt.

After all the old couple themselves had endured a lifetime of longing. They had lived – as Aunt Polly expressed it:_ (Physically trapped in __**this **__awful place when your soul has run away to a world beyond all else and certainly has no intention of returning to prison. A split self can be a little uncomfortable at times.) _

Those two had only experienced Narnia for a couple of days of course – hardly a comparison to the siblings own enchanted _years_ – but it was enough to understand.

Because, Lucy discovered: once Narnia had filled you and embedded itself into the niche in your heart (whether for an instant or a lifetime) – it never left.

So the Macready soon gave into despair at her master's and Miss Plummer's reaction to the (scandalous) children's behaviour.

Lucy couldn't count the number of times the housekeeper had found the Ed and the Professor absorbed in philosophical conversations beyond his own university contemporises, _("Come now, do you really think he understands a word you're saying?") _

Then she'd been reprimanded by Aunt Polly for criticizing Susan's night wanderings around the darkened house. ("_It's irresponsible to allow a girl of twelve up at this hour...) _

Not to mention when she'd chided Lucy's habit of acting as if the manor house trees could speak. _(She'll be dragged off to the asylum, you mark my words...") _Only to find all _six _of them engaged in conversation about whether the oaks minded losing their green adornments to fluttering leaves of red, gold and brown. (It was well known dryads were vain sorts).

Professor Kirke and Polly saw _all _of them (but especially Peter)as equals and that was what Peter had needed above all: to know he was still _worth _something.

At the Professors; cut off from outsiders, from people, from the world itself – it was _possible _to imagine they'd never left at all. They were home in Narnia.

But ultimately the Professor and Aunt Polly (whose visits were numerous and long) had only ever been their entrance way back to their old lives.

After just over six months months of balancing that fine line between the world they'd lost and the one they (_had _to) find, their mother had called them _home. _Home that was a cramped house in Finchley rather than the palace overlooking the endless ocean and beyond.

It was confusing to say the least.

Seeing their mum again had been confusing as well and Lucy felt an odd ache in her stomach as she thought of it even now, throbbing with half joy and half regret.

Helen Pevensie had been as lost as they were, face to face with children that...weren't _children _anymore. She was hurt by the awkwardness with which they got off the train unsure of whether to hug her or stand back. They clung close together for comfort, as of it was their four against the world.

And of course with Peter it had been the most obvious; since their Dad had left Mum had depended on him more than ever. She hadn't been sure what to make of the nervous man before her, standing straight and dignified as if by all the rights – he was a King.

(Her mum had confided that observation to Lucy over some late night hot chocolate: That the four of them seemed to have the air of royalty since they'd returned. Lucy had to stop herself coughing the drink all over the table. Of all the things to think...)

Even then though, Peter hadn't been too bad – at home at least.

It was the holidays when they first returned; a few more weeks of freedom before the older three returned to boarding school. Peter was able to find his position at home again. Maybe Mum was a bit put out at his sudden demand for control but after all, Peter wanting to take charge was hardly unusual and it wasn't surprising the war had increased his maturity after all...

It was outside the house that caused the problems though. Old friends (also returning from the country) were about and Peter was the first to encounter some of his.

Looking back Lucy thought that they probably hadn't even been _that_ insulting; but it wasn't surprising that old comrades were put off with the change in Peter. They were only boys really and his dominant (arrogant) attitude was bound to set some hackles up.

That phrase always made Lucy think of dogs leaping and tearing at each other's necks and she supposed it _was_ better never to get in the middle of any of those savage male battles whether they were over a whole country or some asses 'priggish' manner.

But however boys sorted these things; by the time Peter's old friends had seen him again a couple of times they usually sloped off. One or two stayed around – the more understanding ones – but most left in frustration at his pure bloody mindedness. (Yes she did say it.)

It only got worse at school: Peter had been seething at the patronization of the teachers and boys. He wasn't a King, he wasn't a leader, he wasn't _anything. _Humiliated and resentful he responded with increasing fits of anger and stupidity, desperately trying to prove his worth in exactly the _wrong _way.

Of course Lucy had only worked this out through second hand information from Ed, but the blunt letters had been enough:

_Hey Lu, (The Valiant Queen ect. I know it's nice to keep up the tradition but really? School isn't exactly generous on paper allowance you know)._

_Anyway, just thought I'd drop a note to see how you're doing: this will probably takes weeks to get to you anyway – not nearly as satisfactory as Narnia correspondence but I suppose none of the eagles __**here **__would be willing to act as courier – still it's better than nothing. (Not to mention this isn't exactly the legendary laws I used to write)._

_How's mum? And are you holding up alright at home? I'm sure Susan writes even more than I do (if that's possible) but it must be pretty odd without any of us around. At least I have Pete to keep me company. Although I don't mind saying there are times I'd almost prefer to be without him these days: he's always flying off the handle at something or other. Hot-tempered, difficult, arrogant, thoughtless, selfish – violent even. And those are just a few adjectives I could use. _

_I know it's tough for him being treated like a kid again but I'm not sure punching every chap who laughs in his presence is the right way to get back his respect. Most of his old friends have abandoned camp (can't say I blame them, they can't be expected to understand) and he's been pulled up to the heads office twice this term. There's talk of a letter being sent home and that's the last thing mum's needs right now. _

_Honestly it's as if the __**more **__he tries to prove himself as the Magnificent the __**less **__Magnificent he gets. If he acted like this in Narnia you can be sure Aslan would turn up to have a word. _

_I understand how he feels of course and it must be harder going from High King to a nobody, than from an ordinary King or Queen; we three were still under (human) authority even in Narnia but we're all in the same boat really: I've had to fend off both the chaps who beat me around before we left – and explain to the terrified lower forms that I'm not going to attack them! I suppose I deserve to have to prove myself a bit though and they're warming up to me but Pete's going in the opposite direction. At this rate he'll go from one of the most admired students in the school to a virtual outcast. _

_I've tried to talk to him obviously but he won't even to talk to __**me **__much anymore, just sulking off like a toddler. (When he's not yelling or brawling). _

_Maybe I'm being too harsh – I've no doubt that's what you're thinking with your compassionate soul – but all the same he'd better sort himself out soon. _

_Anyway must dash – this is a lot longer than I planned (as always)._

_In Aslan's Name Always _

_Ed_

_(Just King ect. Happy now?)_

Ed's hurt observations (and they were hurt underneath the humour) had only been proved when Peter came home from the holidays: still brooding and decidedly short tempered. (Lucy could understand how badly that must have gone down at school). He was almost unrecognisable, the ever cherished control slipping out of his hands.

The worry in her mother's dark eyes and defined frown lines had been hard to bear. It was a sign of how bad it had got that Peter couldn't to how much pain he was causing Mum. He'd always been considerate before now, especially with Dad gone but he was too focused on what he used to have and didn't have any more to notice.

It had hurt Lucy to see Peter so lost and confused, indeed far more than observing either of Susan or Ed's lowest moments.( Not that she didn't love them with equal fervour) but Peter...always so strong, so _Magnificent_ the realization that he could be weak as anyone else was...destroying for him.

How ironic: in living for himself he lost himself.

That was when Lucy realised how entwined living for others her brother's sense of being was and why he _depended_ on her dependency so much. Peter felt as if he could no longer work for others: if he was not a King he was no use at all and turned to his own wants.

Things had been at their breaking point when they returned to Narnia. Peter had been stretched and stretched, he was pulling against himself so hard that the different pieces of him were straining against each other and Lucy knew he was so close to snapping.

She'd had a suspicion about why they were pulled back _just _then – yes Narnia needed them but thousands of years had passed there, time was fluid, surely it would have made no difference if the four of them were a month, year or decade older?

Narnia didn't just need them. They needed Narnia.

_Peter_ needed Narnia.

Of course she hadn't anticipated Peter's behaviour spilling over between worlds, somehow she'd thought the anger was restricted to the barriers of English life – she should have known better. Those issues didn't belong to England, they belonged to her brother and he carried the explosive baggage with him wherever he went, its weight seamlessly slipping across the walls of magic.

And it _had _exploded; erupted with horror and death and more pain that Lucy thought possible. Because that was the downside of being King – your mistakes weren't held down to squabbles and detentions they swelled to infinite proportions stifling and crushing everyone below you.

It was ironic really that that was what saved him.

Because all along Lucy had said Peter lived to serve others and so it wasn't until he saw how his mistakes weighed down on his subjects, were suffering that he at last pulled back and said _enough._

While personally challenges failed and there was nothing to live _for _in England the realization of his_ people's pain_ pulled him back from the brink. Lucy had crept into that echoing cavern as he sat absorbed in his own cloud of guilt and knew that his true purpose had come back.

He hadn't been able to fight for himself any longer but he could fight for the Narnians who revered him, his siblings who loved him and the Lion who believed in him. _For Narnia...and for Aslan. _

And of course that made all the difference.

It had seemed unfair to Lucy (not that she would ever question Aslan) that just as Peter got it 'sorted', found _himself _and his place in Narnia again he had to leave.

But she supposed that was the way it always worked: just when you think you'd succeeded Aslan revealed the next step of your journey, ever moving and ever progressing towards his shining glory at the end of the road.

Besides Peter – never known to back down from a challenge – wouldn't have had it any other way.

His self control as they left Narnia had simultaneously sent a wave of heart break and rush of fierce pride through Lucy. Despite the immovable rightness of Aslan's judgement Peter had been breaking inside. (Lucy of course experienced the feeling from her own loss years later) None of the animals or Telmarines watching saw a glimpse of that pain, all they saw was the strong and stoic Magnificent King doing his duty but she knew.

But it was in the next instant back on the crowded platform and clogging air that Lucy had thought her brother had never looked more like a King. Despite the ill fitting uniform, unflattering hair cut and awkward limbs that had lost all their Narnian grace, something shone from within her brother.

Lucy could never quite describe what it was – courage, strength, love, power –they all paled next to the glory of his expression. She couldn't believe that everyone on the platform hadn't turned and stared as he hurried to the train; even Su – wrapped in her own pain – seemed unaware of the invisible spotlight.

The 'it' wasn't the constant peace Ed had, (who may or may not have noticed his brother, it was impossible to tell) it only fleeting but enough to take your breath away at just one glance.

The nearest she got the describing the scene was that it was the illumination of a person totally full of Aslan's love: that the lion had fuelled his soul into Peter's body and at that moment the young teenager had been the epitome of all a human could be in the paws of the father.

Peter had given up Narnia, trusted without protest in the Kings of Kings rule but perhaps he had found something even greater, a glimpse at the joy awaiting them one day.

And Lucy knew then that Peter would be alright.

The Magnificent had come home at last.

**X-X**

**This one was harder to do than Edmund and Susan as both of them have very obvious 'low points' and character developments in their lives. (Ed in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and Su at the end of the Last Battle), in the books Peter's struggle aren't really commented on but I based this chapter mostly on the movies. **

**Unlike a lot of book fans I don't actually have an objection to Peter's behaviour in Prince Caspian (Though I do think the battle scenes in the castle raid got a bit graphic for kids but I digress). It always annoyed me that there was no comment on how much they all struggled losing their kingdom, people and lives over night. It's not surprising Peter would have the hardest time being High King and all and it was good to give him some flaws. **

**I also estimated approximately on how long the four of them stayed with the Professor after they got back from Narnia: they were evacuated during the Blitz and after doing some research I found at that children came back to the cities at random points. Some kids in the country for virtually their whole lives and some only a couple of weeks so I figured six or seven months would work and given Diggory and Polly enough time to help all four of them to adjust back into their old lives and world. **

**There will be one more chapter about Lucy but it will be short and more of a conclusion than going into her history. **


	5. Chapter 5: Lucy

**And the final chapter is up – Lucy. Originally this was longer but I eventually decided it just ended up as meaningless twitter and detracted from her previous thoughts and focus of Aslan guiding journeys. Plus it was only meant to be an epilogue anyway. **

**I may have mentioned this before (I've completely forgotten by now) but the time frame for this is shortly before the Last Battle takes place. **

**Chapter Five: **

The lilting wind rustled through the open window and Lucy smiled blissfully, its power instantly sweeping through her mind and brushing away all previous thoughts of family stories and her sister and brothers.

She was perched precariously on the window sill; one hand braced carefully against the frame, slender ankles crossed together and bare legs dangling above the looming drop.

Breathing in the sweet smelling air, Lucy arched her back and stretched even further into the open sky so the glimmering moon illuminated her fair hair. In this light it looked almost the colour it had in Narnia.

She couldn't explain the importance of this tiny trick of the light: Maybe it was because – despite her rapidly ageing self (not long until she'd start having 'new' birthdays again) – Lucy couldn't shake off the feeling that she never looked the same as the Valiant Queen had.

Whether it was the difference in gowns, hairstyles or simply the changed air but somehow she'd always looked more _alive _in Narnia: pinker cheeks, brighter eyes, bigger smile...It was illogical but she could never suppress the pang of disappointment whenever she looked in the mirror.

Hence the comfort of the slippery moonlight. At least there was somewhere she could reassure herself the Narnian magic still lingered, though it was hidden most of the time.

Pushing away that recurring thought Lucy suddenly realised goose pimples had erupted over her arms and her teeth were chattering with cold; maybe she'd left this window open long enough – lost in the memories of her siblings.

She dropped down from the sill with a practiced, quiet _thump _and swung and bolted the windows. There was one latch in the house that was always well oiled.

Shivering Lucy crawled into bed and under her covers, rubbing her arms to keep warm, irritated at both herself and the weather that these sudden cravings for night air so often came in the middle of winter.

As warmth began to spread throughout her body Lucy mulled over the memories that had washed over her in the night, the sudden recollection of her sibling's journeys:

Edmund's loneliness, betrayal and rebirth – Susan's grief, surrender and abandonment – Peter's anger, arrogance and repentance.

She could see their journeys so clearly, it had always been obvious to her where they were going, what was happening to them and how. (Although she couldn't always prevent it, Lucy reminded herself with a twinge of guilt). _Their _steps had been illuminated to her every step of the way.

But what about her journey? Where was she going? For that matter where had she really come from? How had it truly changed her? Lucy had great faith in Aslan – something many were quick to comment on – but that didn't mean she didn't feel lost sometimes and tonight she felt as if she was surrounded by blackness, shadows consuming the path ahead and pressing in on every side, blinding her.

_What about __**me**__ Aslan? _She pleaded internally, frustrated at the selfishness of the demand but unwillingly to relinquish her stubbornness. _I can see all of them so clearly, I can see the plans you've had for them, how you've led them all but where am I going? Why can't I see myself as I can see them? What's __**my **__path? _

However the room remained silent and mind dancing with unanswered questions Lucy began to feel exhaustion seep into her aching limbs. She yawned deeply and wriggled around to curl up on her side, drooping eyes still gazing dreamily at the moon shining through wide open curtains. The warmth folded over her like a pillow and her eye lids slowly began to sag shut bringing the blissful relief of thoughtlessness.

But as Lucy hovered on the fringes of sleep she could have sworn she felt familiar breath kissing her forehead and hear the rumble of a lion's steady words in her ears: warm and all knowing all at once.

_All your paths lead to me dear one._

_X-X_

"_Because she knows where she's going and where she came from." – Fishy Music_

**X-X**

**And done! Obviously because this story was about Lucy **_**observing**_** the others I haven't charted her journey in the same way as her siblings but I've sort of referenced the highest and lowest aspects of herself: Her faith in Aslan and her low esteem about her image and appearance. **

**With the Aslan part at the end, Aslan himself said he was in both Narnia and England and I don't see why he couldn't still speak to Lucy in both lands, even if it was in a more subtle way (note she never actually **_**saw **_**him) but that's up to interpretation. **

**The last line was from a song I loved when I was younger by Fishy Music and just seemed to kind of fit the story **


End file.
